Patronus Outtakes
by femme4jack
Summary: One shots related to the story, Patronus, posted separately for mature themes. 1. JazzxOptimus, 2. PatronusxSideswipe 3. JazzxMikaela 4. MegatronxOptimus 5. RatchetxMikaela JazzxMikaela
1. Healing Optimus x Jazz

**Title**: Patronus Outtakes - Healing  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Bayverse, DotM  
><strong>Authors<strong>: femme4jack & Merfilly  
><strong>Characters<strong>: Jazz & Optimus Prime  
><strong>Chapter Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Optimus Prime and Jazz find healing in each others' sparks.

**Notes:** Immediately follows Patronus ch. 8, because you didn't think we could actually LEAVE it there, did you? Posted separately for mature themes.

**WARNINGS**: Spoilers for DotM, Ungendered sentient robotic organisms having orgasms (Mech/Mech Spark, Tactile, Fields), alludes to xeno intimacy of an unspecified variety (mech/human), polyamorous culture

* * *

><p>The drive back to the city had done little to work out all of Jazz's energy, and he knew his hyperactivity was plaguing the Prime now, driving Optimus's wishes for privacy off the charts. Jazz darted in and out of the pair of trucks escorting him, but only flicked his fields teasingly along the trailer and its tractor, mindful, even in his playful mood, of Patronus's younger form.<p>

He knew he had all of Optimus's attention when the semi dropped the trailer outside their temporary base and did not enter.

::Patronus, inform Sideswipe he remains in command for now. Lennox should be told only that I am briefing the newcomer, and not who at this point,:: Optimus informed the younger mech. ::Jazz and I are going to recon one of the abandoned areas of the city.::

Jazz did not let his laughter fill the bond at those words. In part, it would be true. They would be looking for secondary points to stage from in case there were a full attack. But he knew good and well he was about to get his way on breaking down the Prime's walls in the best way possible. He did love it when Optimus cooperated.

Patronus was wise enough to just blow a little extra air through his exhaust in mockery of the excuse, but he rolled on inside, and went to handle things. It would give him time to go corner Ratchet about setting up time for his own upgrades to be able to graduate to a fully functional adult mech.

Optimus waited until the gates shut behind his cohort member, and then pulled away, heading into no-man's land. It was risky, on one hand, because they could not be certain of their security. However, it was also the only place Optimus knew for a fact that he could find the room and privacy to have his lieutenant exactly how he wanted him. He remembered a building, one of the abandoned nutrition processing plants with a huge, open layout, that would do if it were still empty. He had considered it as a secondary base should any Autobot reinforcements arrive without clearing through Mars, actually.

::Red would be flipping,:: Jazz pointed out as he got a quick data burst of Optimus's intent.

Optimus let a warm chuckle ease over the link. ::Red Alert was created with his spark strung tighter than a tension cable.:: He led the way, circling the area and slowly decreasing the perimeter of that circle until he was certain Jazz would be safe with him in the abandoned building.

::Prime, you gonna have t' stop worryin' over me so much,:: Jazz sent fiercely, having caught that rationale. ::You're the one far more at risk here now! You know what would happen with this truce if you get killed? Megatron wins. 'Cause he'd come on back to Earth to supposedly avenge you and mow over anyone, anything that got in the way with that as his excuse!::

::You exaggerate.:: Prime flipped into his mech form as he drove through the blasted out delivery door, fully able to stand inside the empty loading room beyond it. He turned so he could see his partner make the same transformation, always hypnotized by how effortless and graceful Jazz handled the process. For himself, it always felt so tiring and difficult, but Jazz made it look more natural than any of their kind could, save maybe a Seeker.

"You take all your dates t' the meat packin' plant?" Jazz asked cheekily as he made his way toward his lover with a distinctly predatory gait.

"No... some I just have in Medical," Optimus told him, with enough mystery and hints that it had not been Ratchet to intrigue Jazz. He was fully braced for the effect Jazz had on him, ready for Jazz to be in his space, but also enjoying the sheer anticipation of touching him again, of letting their fields merge.

Jazz paused in his stalking just at the edge of Prime's strong field, allowing his own to tease the edges with what felt like far more than a few orbital cycles of anticipation. While he simply enjoyed the teek of it, he also was deliberately mapping the music of the changes since the last time they had been together. Guilt, grief, need...those were the obvious refrain. But it was modulated by a counter melody of something distinctly organic, of their new home, as well a descant of the call of the wind and the command of the skies. Then there were the strong subharmonics of Megatron, far louder than Jazz could recall since their earliest vorns together.

He lifted an optic ridge and flashed his visor in surprise.

Optimus had stood so still, just waiting, optics taking in the beauty of his chosen partner. Jazz was so unlike any of the other mechs he had known in his existence, even for his class of frame. There was something distinctly fluid about Jazz that intoxicated all of Optimus's senses. Feeling the flutter of those energies caressing the edges of his own made his spark swirl hotly, his chest warming on the lower bands of their vision. However, the surprise Jazz evinced was enough of a check to make Optimus not get greedy and snatch him in close, but to wait, and remember that while it had only been three human years for them, Prime did not know how many of the memories Jazz still needed to catch up. "I've changed some," Optimus rumbled, aware of his modifications that Ratchet had done after Egypt to better integrate the dying Seeker's gift to him.

"Ya feel good with Seeker in your field, and a new sister in the cohort, too," Jazz said, pushing his own field as if to taste the changes more thoroughly. A grin spread on his faceplates as he interpreted what he sensed with a level of perception and lateral processing few could match. "Ah always thought the little bug or me would be the first t' try out a human as a partner, though."

"Hmm. I wouldn't be a worthy Prime if I did not make certain such experiences were beneficial, now would I?" Optimus said, finally giving in to the urge to step closer, fields flaring to possessively wrap around Jazz. That held a harder edge than ever before, possibly because of nearly losing Jazz, or maybe because there was that part that tasted so firmly of Megatron within the Prime. "I think you will enjoy her presence in the cohort."

A needy, static-laced noise erupted from Jazz at the feel of those demanding fields, and even at the sharp possessiveness that was in his Prime's spark. He flared his own again, this time freely showing all of the need and ache of too much time alone, reintegrating old memories rather than creating new files to add to the frenetic beauty of his core. It was both a call and a challenge for his Prime to take what was his with all that greed and possessiveness unbecoming of an Autobot Optimus kept hidden in his spark. "Ah'm sure Ah will, especially if Ah get t' watch her with ya first," his voice sounded shaky to his own audials, his tenuous hold on control slipping.

Optimus Prime gave up then. His lover, his cohort-bonded mech needed and wanted him, matching him desire for desire. He reached, his larger hand scooping around Jazz's back, and moved, so their frames came into close contact. Now he could feel all the energies, the surge of life flowing in Jazz's frame that reassured all the nearly broken connections from that horrible day. "Jazz..." His voice was a reverential whisper of sound, before he slipped down onto one knee to take away the height keeping them apart.

"Ah'm here," he whispered back, his voice carrying a depth of emotion normally hidden beneath his unquenchable energy and good humor. He surprised Optimus by bringing his mouth to Prime's own in the human version of their own helm-to-helm caress, as though acknowledging in the exploration of a kiss the new reality in which they found themselves, their home on an organic world with an organic partner now a part of their cohort.

Kissing had been a pleasurable activity to learn, and Optimus was not going to protest this from Jazz in the least. He brought his other hand around the spy, letting both hands begin their exploration of the new transformation seams, finding their way in to touch the interior wiring that held such promise for sensual delight. As he touched and learned his lover's body again, Optimus seared it all into new memory partitions, to hold on to, a shield against the recharge-nightmares he still had from that day.

Jazz hummed in pleasure, vorns of experience allowing him to be patient as their charge began to build, but with an edge to his field that promised the control could slip. His own clawed fingers played along the modifications Ratchet had made to his lover's frame, magnetic pulses caressing connector points for the flight tech, fingers dipping in to trace and tug at new wiring as sensitive as any Seeker's, for all that the sail wings and thrusters were only attached when needed.

"Ngh..." The noise ripped from Optimus's throat at being touched like that, as he had not truly become accustomed to how they made him react. Nothing could have prepared him for Jazz's touch along those sensitive nodes. He pushed his frame into stronger contact with the smaller mech's lines, optics flicking in the pulsing conflict of wanting more of Jazz's touch, and just wanting to have Jazz splayed out beneath him, opening to him, and taking Jazz deep into pleasure.

Jazz melted into Optimus's frame, hard angles suddenly seeming fluid as transformation seams adjusted and conformed to one another, allowing them to fit together as smoothly as organic flesh, fields flaring and meshing in open invitation for more. His legs wrapped around the surprisingly slender waist, sparks aligned, calling to one another over a bond that was swiftly reknitting itself and opening wide in anticipation of completing a circuit that had nearly been broken. With a purr of his engine he reached his hands along the new nodes again, treating them to a far stronger magnetic pulse, just begging for his Prime to let go, to lose control by taking control.

The larger mech's chest plates slid open in answer to the demand. Rather than lay down with his lover beneath him, though, Optimus settled his weight on both knees, rocking back to rest his aft along his own lower legs. Supported that way, he kept Jazz tightly pulled in against his body, digits slipping beneath the plates of Jazz's hip on one side and his shoulder on the other. Each pulse of energy was harder to resist than the one before it, compelling Optimus to let his spark spiral out, corona building fast and hot between them as he felt Jazz slide open to him in response. He needed to overwhelm Jazz, needed to possess him in ways that most Autobots found less pleasant. Jazz, he knew, understood. Jazz had chosen this path with him in the wake of learning that Megatron's rejection had not been complete.

"Yes, Ah'm yours, love, always yours," Jazz purred, his plates now fully spread and spark reaching out in gleeful response to the demanding power of the one that wanted to consume him all the best ways possible. There was no other whom Optimus could be this free with, and Jazz relished and treasured it, even the times it caused pain, because there was nothing more vulnerably beautiful to him than Optimus with all of his control gone and his guards down.

"I have missed you," Optimus admitted, finding just enough control to let the link between them flood with his deepest emotions. All his fear for Jazz, the long absence's wear on him, and the love he could not express in any way but this way, here and now, rolled from Optimus to Jazz in the moments before the pair of sparks matched on a harmonic that had not rung out in too long. As that harmonic rang true, though, Optimus was lost in the primal call of the merge, possessing the one he needed most. It made him shudder, arms tightening around his Jazz, as the first wave of Jazz's spark-energy and design was mingled into his own, caught by it, and wrapped inside his with no room for anything but completion.

Jazz's smaller torso was pulled nearly completely within the wider plates as their merged sparks pulsed in the unique rhythm that was their union, each pulse ripping a keen of ecstasy from the smaller mech's vocalizer and a deeper thrum of the same from the massive mech who held him, building in volume as joy and love became a physical thing racing with the charge in their systems. Memories flashed between them in rapid succession, each shared, soothed, then given away to the perfection of the present.

Optimus's fingers, spread inside the armor plates at hip and shoulder, fluttered, caressing the wires in reach, but never did he let the strength of his arms around that smaller form falter. He had to keep Jazz close, perfectly held as their union built, spiraling with all the need they shared. Surges of the energy, radiating out from their cores, played through their systems, spiking sensations that in turn fed the loop they had made between them.

Jazz's own skilled fingers were buried deep where he held on for purchase, magnetic pulses simultaneously igniting and easing tension held so long. The air hummed as their passion rose, then their combined cores brightened into a blinding light that encompassed their sensuously molded frames. A final burst of light and noise before vocalizers shorted out and the light faded, leaving them still deeply connected, deeply one, but resting in a peace that could only be possible after giving themselves to one another so completely.

~Could never leave ya behind,~ one spark spoke into the other, knowing full well that what should have passed beyond this plane of existence had remained out of sheer stubborn determination.

~I would not want to exist without you.~ The sense of how dangerously close to the edge that spark had been was laden through that steady reply. Now, together with the completing part, there was a new wholeness that promised stronger things in the future.

Words and fears were left behind as they sank even further into that communion.


	2. First Charge Patronus x Sideswipe

**Title**: Patronus Outtakes - First Charge  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Bayverse, DotM  
><strong>Authors<strong>: femme4jack & Merfilly  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Patronus/Sideswipe  
><strong>Chapter Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Patronus needs to burn off some irritation. Sideswipe helps.

**WARNINGS**: Spoilers for DotM, Mech/Mech Interfacing (PnP, Tactile, Fields)

**Notes:** Set between Patronus ch. 8 & ch. 9, posted separately for mature themes. Thanks to flybystardancer for the beta! We were inspired by justbolt's awesome story, _Teaching Young Bots Old Tricks_, and we used some of her ideas with permission. It can be found at www . fanfiction . net / s / 6465407 / 1 / Teaching_Young_Bots_Old_Tricks (remove spaces)

* * *

><p>Patronus wondered if he should feel different with his upgrades. He had memories of interfacing. He knew it was something he, as Ironhide, had enjoyed a great deal. Yet, without the sensory memory to accompany the files, the incidents he could recall lacked context. His spark was impatient for connection. The bonds that were so integral to him needed completion, but the yearning was an emotive one, not accompanied by the pleasure-based tactile desire he could recall, but not feel or comprehend.<p>

He now had the hardware needed to plug with another mech. Likewise, Ratchet had installed the coding to allow him to expose his spark as well as the modules needed to interpret his sensory data as pleasure. Ratchet had mentioned something about the coding pack activating once the circumstances were right and had given him another code to put the modules on standby if the circumstances were wrong. The CMO, however, had made himself noticeably scarce before Patronus could attempt orchestrate the right sort of circumstances.

That had left Patronus in an even more sullen mood than he had been on the first part of the drive to escort Jazz (who was noticeably still missing from base, along with Optimus). Bumblebee was still recovering in Medical and was inseparable from Sam and Carly, so he wasn't an option, and slag it! He wanted to renew his bonds with his cohort, even if two of those he was yearning for were a couple of pathetic slaggers who made worry into full time function.

He knew one thing that would lift him out of his irritable mood. Sideswipe was always good for a bout on the training floor, and Patronus now had the skills to avoid being beaten into that same floor. The young mech was getting better at holding his own, even with a seasoned warrior. Just the thought of training made his systems run a little hotter in anticipation of working off some of his irritation. He cycled air through his vents as he sent a general query to his mentor.

::What?:: Sideswipe asked with a curt connection. Patronus had learned the silver mech was prone to bouts of excessive quiet, and his bluntness, according to Jolt and Ratchet, had given Ironhide a run for the money where tact was concerned. Prime apparently allowed few to rebuke him over it, though.

::Feeling the need to slag something and thought about you,:: Patronus teased. The many hours they spent training had put him at ease with his mentor in a manner that he was still only learning with others.

::You wish,:: Sideswipe sent back with the distinct thought-flow of having smiled to hear that. ::Meet you in the training room; they moved their boxes on wheels out of it finally.:: Sideswipe had nothing but contempt for the soldier's smaller Humvees, having decided they were far too impractical and not all that great at protecting the squishies anyhow.

::About slagging time,:: Patronus said before cutting the transmission. He transformed into his alt to make the trip from Medical to the hanger that had been designated for training on the other side of an unused tarmac.

Halfway there, the Corvette Stingray sped past him with a rude sound and a transmitted glyph that, on Cybertron, would have been used to remotely signal a slow-moving transport drone to give the right of way to a faster moving sentient alt.

Patronus revved his own engines at that and transmitted a rude glyph in return, that in the proper context indicated that its receiver only knew what drones were because he regularly 'faced them, along with various other kinds of non-sentient cyberlife that had once populated their planet. He'd had it with being outpaced by silver vehicles this slaggin' week! He gunned his engine to catch up, but to no avail as Sideswipe blasted his horn and sped away.

When he entered the hanger and transformed, Sideswipe was already in a defensive posture, arrogance radiating from his field and faceplates. It was all part of the game, trying to get his student to react without his processors. Instead of aggressively launching himself at his mentor (not that it wasn't tempting), Patronus transformed his hand into a blunt training blade he had recently downloaded the modules for, having looked on his mentor's shining blades and graceful violence with secret envy. He knew Ironhide had favored his fists over blades when it came to close combat, but Patronus could not help but to be shaped by the mech who was training him. A mech, he noted, who appeared more elegantly deadly than ever before. His engine gave a rev in anticipation.

"Nice stick, Sparky," Sideswipe taunted him. He flicked out a single blade to parry with, that sneer never parting from his faceplates. He kept his posture open, inviting foolishness, and started to move for position, making Patronus match him to keep from being blindsided. His fields were sizzling with anticipation of a good workout; he enjoyed sparring with Patronus now that the mechling had gotten some skill under his strikes.

Patronus merely rumbled in response, letting his field flare outward aggressively to meet his mentor's. But what happened next lost him not only his concentration, but almost his balance. The collision of those fields sent a charge straight back through the Patronus's frame, to his spark, then ricocheted out again. He stifled a groan.

"So, you all talk and no action today, Sparky?" Sideswipe asked, feinting in to the left, all that aggressive energy slamming in along the younger mech's fields. He moved with ruthless efficiency, blow coming from his empty hand as he kept the blade ready to parry any retaliation.

Patronus could barely pay attention to the words, and the blow barely registered in comparison to the way his sensors lit up against Sideswipe's fields. With a growl, he seemingly forgot his training and simply launched himself in retaliation, intent on overwhelming Sideswipe's smaller build with brute strength and size. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to have the silver mech underneath him, pinned down, his own field slamming into the other's frame.

Sideswipe, however, was well accustomed to taking on larger opponents. He caught that barreling attack, tossing Patronus with his hip as the pivot point. Sideswipe kept moving as Patronus landed, coming down on his own knee, balanced just so for maximum leverage as he put the blade to Patronus's neck. "Thought you said you were going to slag something, Patronus?" Sideswipe commented with silken tones sliding along the younger mech's audials, fields vibrating in countertime to his student's.

Patronus cycled his optics in confusion, not quite sure how he had ended up on the floor so quickly. His pump was racing, cooling fans all at maximum after very little exertion, and all he could process doing was grabbing his mentor and rolling him beneath his larger frame, which he knew was not even a possibility if his training didn't kick in.

"Slag," he finally said, retracting his blade and then reaching up to grab roughly onto Sideswipe's clavicle strut, attempting to pull the silver mech closer.

Sideswipe's engine revved at that grab, so distinctly not a combat maneuver, and popped his blade out of the way to help. Pits, but the feel of Patronus's fields flicking on his was enough to send him straight into the mindset of working off energy just this way, and he pressed down harder, shifting to spread his weight along the bigger mech's frame. "Mmm," he murmured, letting his energies play along all the surface he could touch now that he knew just what his student wanted.

And slag yes, this _was_ what Patronus wanted. The feel of hot plates against his own, fields igniting his sensors and all of his new coding suddenly kicking into place. Guided by his few memories, he slid his hand from Sideswipe's clavicle strut into the gaps between his neck and shoulder to roughly play with sensitive cabling underneath. His other arm locked around this mentor's waist to hold him close. "Don't you dare get back up," he growled.

Sideswipe laughed, almost mockingly. "Like I'd want to when I can frag you into the decking right now?" He added a deliberate grind of his frame downward, plates scraping in all the best ways. He writhed into the touches, before bringing his mouth down to flick glossa along the pressure sensors in Patronus's chest armor, sending new engine vibrations between their frames.

Patronus arched into the new touch, wrapping a leg around his mentor's own to keep him close. He craved the contact, wanted to feel _everything_ of the mech on top of him. His hand moved to caress one of the complex sensory and comm structures on Sideswipe's helm, and he mouthed the one on the other side, his glossa sweeping along its shape. Every one of his own sensors, internal and external, were buzzing with charge that was racing through his system, surging into his spark, and then back through the circuit of his neural relays.

"Slag, yeah," Sideswipe growled. "Keep doing that." His frame felt like it was sizzling with the way Patronus's efforts were pinging all his kinks. Not only was he on top, but he had Patronus completely wanting him, needing him, and that made the smaller mech thrill with anticipation. He kept working his glossa over the metal and sensors that were heating so fast, loving the taste of it. His memory gave him other data to compare to, but Sideswipe ignored it in favor of the moment. Later would be soon enough for that solid feeling of satisfaction of having turned the tables on his own one-time mentor.

Patronus knew Ironhide had liked to take control, and had memories of interfacing with the same straight forward determination as he met everything else. But slag did it feel good to have a more experienced mech on top of him. He did just what the silver mech demanded, running his hand along his mentor's helm, busying his mouth to memorize the new yet known taste, his other hand burying itself in the cabling at Sideswipe's waist as if he could pull their frames even closer. Coding kicked in at that thought, allowing his own transformation seams to adjust and mold himself to the shape of his mentor, and he let out a low growl of approval at all of the new points of contact. The young mech arched his head back and hissed in surprise at the sudden surge of pleasure from every connection point straight to his spark.

Sideswipe could not ignore how exposed that made Patronus's throat. His mouth moved to both glide and close along the cabling there, dentaplates rough in their exploration. His engine thrummed solidly, as he matched the way Patronus had shifted to allow that fierce merge of frames. The digits of one hand slid down his student, found the port for connecting them, and started stroking there.

"Oh frag!" Patronus said as his entire frame jumped in surprise at the jolt of pleasure that arched through him with each stroke, spiraling the the port open wide in response. His hand fumbled along Sideswipe's frame until memory kicked in and he found the matching port he was looking for under his mentor's neck cabling. He suddenly could not get connected fast enough and felt his firewalls lower in anticipation. He already could feel Sideswipe as close as possible on his external frame, every plate lined up in hot, throbbing perfection as their fields surged back and forth into one another. He needed to feel his mentor's consciousness as well.

Sideswipe wasted no time in getting his cord ready and then slammed it into Patronus's port with visceral satisfaction. With their fields tangled up, their plates matched, and the way the heat was pacing the charges in their frames, it was close to perfect to feel the data spill begin. Sideswipe gave Patronus all his lust and hunger through it, with teasing, gently mocking impressions of their past together. It wasn't spiteful, just a sharing of the fact Patronus/Ironhide did mean something in the egotistical mech's world.

Patronus's groan echoed through the hanger as Sideswipe erupted inside him, an invasion of searing, arrogant pleasure. Every memory fragment that the silver mech slid into Patronus's core was met with demanding hunger for more, for something that was missing form the connection. Following his mentor's mental demand, Patronus fumbled with his own cord, hardly able to hold it as his hand shook, but somehow managed to slide it home into Sideswipe's open port.

Sideswipe hissed, frame arching a little, but it was in pleasure as he felt the other mech's data stream spilling into to him. He had never truly adapted to being alone in his own processors, and this almost felt right, like he was supposed to be. The surge of new data, memories, and all of Patronus's needs flashed through his system with a heat all of its own.

"So slagging good, don't stop!" Patronus growled as their rhythms synced. He had wanted this...needed this, an end to the isolation inside, every bit as circuit-melting good as the heat of their frames. He could feel all of Sideswipe's nodes as well as his own, alive with input everywhere they were in contact, fields completely merged and sizzling. Ah yes, he remembered this, both his core and his spark, and he gathered those memories and feelings and sent them in a blast back across the link in a move that was all Ironhide.

Sideswipe all but howled as he got hit with those memories, with the sensation that was so much the mech who had retaught him how to interact with others. He was not, and never had been, a quiet mech when it came to interfacing. Thankfully, for the humans, a lot of the sound was below or above the typical range for the native species. With Patronus feeding him so much, and his own data stream increasing, sharing just what he could do to Patronus, had done with Ironhide, Sideswipe's charge was building fast.

::Patronus...:: he growled across the link, pressing down hard against the larger frame, digits never stopping as they swept across wiring and sensors both, stoking Patronus's charge higher.

It was too much for the inexperienced mech. His spark may have been old, but his frame was still new. The multiple inputs rushed together in a culmination of white hot bliss that centered in his spark and then burst outward, flooding his whole system and feeding back into his mentor in a raging open loop.

Sideswipe held on through Patronus's initial overload, banking the surge, holding as much of it in, and refusing to let go just yet. He hungered still, wasn't ready quite yet. It didn't take long, though, with as wide open as Patronus was, before his charge was near critical and he had to let loose. The blossom of pleasure turned into searing ecstasy as it washed out from his fractured spark, and washed back into the loop, catching his lover all over again.

* * *

><p>The howling keens might have been out of human range, but they were sweet music to the two mechs who were enjoying the show from the entrance of the hanger where they effectively blocked the view from any naive human who might have been curious to watch whatever strange form of martial arts the two mechs were practicing now. As the noise and light show settled, leaving only the sounds of overtaxed cooling fans and air being sucked in through vents and intakes, the smaller mech turned to the larger one.<p>

"Lucky slagger. Got t' do it for the first time all over again," Jazz said, his fields buzzing with even more than his normal boundless energy.

His companion only smiled, glad to know that his friends had enjoyed themselves. Before he could comment about them each getting to have a new first time with Patronus, though, he received a communication message that required his immediate attention.

"Thanks for the lovely welcome home, shiny afts," Jazz called across the hanger before following his Prime out the door. If there were any response given, it was too incoherent to be understood.


	3. Human Touch Mikaela x Jazz

**Title**: Patronus Outtake 3 - Human Touch  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Bayverse, DotM  
><strong>Authors<strong>: femme4jack & Merfilly  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Mikaela/Jazz (implied Mikaela/Optimus, Jazz/Soudwave)  
><strong>Chapter Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Jazz distracts Mikaela from the tedium of being confined to the medical hangar.

**WARNINGS**: Explicit mech/human xenophilia (fields, tactile, spark)

**Notes:** Set between Patronus ch. 9 & 10 posted separately for mature themes.

Mikaela was annoyed. Ratchet had insisted on her staying in medical until there were no traces of the disabled nanites remaining in her and he was confident she had fully recovered from the effects of the cryonic treatment. The nanite gel he'd given to Optimus to personally slather over her had taken care of frostbite, though she still felt a little woozy and occasionally got the chills. But slag it, she was bored. She needed to keep her hands and her mind busy, or her thoughts got dark. When she'd asked Ratchet to at least give her some work to do, he had ever-so-kindly suggested that she might consider catching up on movies, books, or twitter feeds she'd missed while on missions, and flat out refused to move her bed off of the berth that happened to be one that had no good way for someone her size to climb down.

Jazz, she noted, on the other side of medical, was certainly keeping busy, even if it simply appeared that he was hardlined into a terminal with a bunch of medical monitors hooked up for his safety in case Soundwave made it past his firewalls. And how was it, as unmoving as the silver mech was as he waged battle with Soundwave on various servers across the Internet, that he still managed to radiate some sort of smugness even with his visor dark?

Mikaela's fingers itched to be scrolling through any data he was picking out and putting into the Spec Ops folder. She wanted to be helping decipher the tidbits he pulled, sharing her human experience and insight with him as he did. Or, if it was just a straight out cyber-battle, she wanted to help monitor his health, just anything that meant she was involved!

She had almost made up her mind to comm Ratchet again, brave his irritation and insist. Jazz was head of _her_ team, and though she hardly knew him, she felt intensely protective of the mech, knowing what he meant to Optimus. He was cohort, and that meant something deeper to her every day. Then she saw the silver frame twitch, his visor flicker, followed by the unique sounds of a mech coming online.

Jazz let his consciousness pour fully back into his frame, pleased and not a bit ashamed of how thoroughly he had managed to distract Soundwave. Anything that worked, after all, was well-worth trying. He pulled his data lines back to himself, then eased his frame back, letting the joints and hydraulics take up working again slowly.

"Jazz?" a thoroughly organic voice called to him from the other end of medical. "You okay over there?"

Jazz turned his helm so he was looking directly at the young human female whose recent viral nanite infection had clued him in to the identity of their coding source. He cracked a grin. Oh yeah, he was fine. And Soundwave, at the moment, was thoroughly contained, caught in a feedback loop he wasn't going to be forgetting for a while. "Just fine, little lady. Old 'Wave is gonna need several joor before he's ready to go at it again. How are ya feelin'?"

"Bored. Restless. Irritated," Mikaela listed off. "Ratchet is being... Ratchet." She gave a pout for the current ignominy of being confined to bed. "I know how much I can do, really!"

Jazz considered her for a klik, as well as the charge that was cycling through his own systems thanks to his previous activities, and decided he knew just what he was going to do it, if she was willing. "I know ya can, sweetie. He thinks that if he bores us enough in here, we won't come back so soon, and that virus really did give him quite a scare. But how 'bout we use the time t' get t' know each other better, bein' on the same team and family and all that?"

"Sweetie, is it?" she asked, with a shade of disapproval. "Not sure we're on that level yet." She watched as he unfolded himself from the chair and moved over to her berth. Though it was even high for him, he made an easy leap up. She was taken by how much more... fluid his motion was. She was learning how each of Prime's mechs moved, finding that they all had body language tells that pointed at their personalities. When he climbed up next to her, she did move toward the edge of her mattress. "We can work on it, long as you promise never to call me that in front of Sideswipe. I threatened to run high tension cable through his ankle joints when he recharged if he did it again."

Jazz threw back his helm and laughed, his hand coming to rest beside her, leaning casually onto her bed. "Difference between Siders and me is that when Ah call someone a sweetie, it ain't an insult. Besides, Optimus shared a few memories, and Ah know for a fact that you are sweet." He looked at her more seriously. "And a slagging good asset t' the team. Ah'd like to hear more 'bout your time overseas."

"Not hard to figure out who was feeding stock tips to me and Bobby now, is it," she pointed up slyly. "Overseas was... interesting. Getting to travel, use Ratchet's gizmo for translations, play the dumb bimbo in some countries, and the hardass bitch in others, just to get a feel for how the world was handling us," she said. "More countries are for us than against; they just don't like us being based here in the States. Until, of course, the 'Cons show up, and then they're all about letting the States keep us," Mikaela said, amused by it. She then cocked her head a little bit. "And just what kind of memories is he sharing?" she asked, with a teasing slide in her voice. Sometimes, getting used to how open about sex her mech family was came harder to cope with than the fact they had absolutely minimal ideas on monogamy being correct. The concept was, in truth, rather baffling to them.

Jazz chuckled, then leaned closer. "Good ones," he said, "though less detail than Ah'm used t' gettin' from him. Your energy tastes sweet t' him, an' he can be more open with ya than he is with most, likely because your energy is so different. But he told me that if Ah wanted t' know more, Ah had t' investigate the source directly, if ya know what Ah mean."

Mikaela laughed at that, just knowing there was some mech version of a wink in the way Jazz held himself as he said it. "He told me you and I would get along pretty well," she said, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "I don't doubt it. But..." Her tone went very playful. "You are technically my boss, you know... I work directly for Prime, not Lennox."

Jazz's look in response to that statement could only have been described as downright wicked. "Good thing, then. We don't have t' worry 'bout any of those human military rules 'bout fraternizing if you're an Autobot an' not NEST. Personally can't imagine servin' with folks Ah couldn't 'face," he paused, seeming to catch himself, a worried expression briefly crossing his expressive facial plating. "Not that Ah'm sayin' it's required or anything, Mikaela. Ah'm still gettin' used t' how different humans are 'bout this sharin' pleasure."

Mikaela stroked along his arm. "Hey, it might, it might not... depends how well you and I... what's that word you guys use? Teek at each other?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Prime loves you. You're cohort. Those are both pretty big reasons I'm pretty much convinced it will be just right for us."

Jazz felt the delicate touches on his dermal plating, more like whispers and quiet promises than a real caress, but the way her thoroughly alien and organic field moved through his own had all kinds of possibilities. He wanted to teek more of that, and get his other sensors in play as well. Delving into the unknown, discovering new ways to relish his functioning and love those he shared it with was what he was all about, at spark. "Ah'm pretty keen on findin' out just how well it works, sis," he said as he adjusted his position so he was leaning slightly over her, and ran one clawed finger ever so carefully down her side, reveling in the play of her field all along the way.

Mikaela shivered slightly at the caress, knowing the dangers of those strong digits, but reveling in the fine control Jazz used with his. She let her eyelids close partway, just breathing in the scent of his presence, getting it fixed in her mind as a part of him. Each Autobot had their own distinct scent, too, a mix of their favorite cleansers, waxes, and the different ways they utilized their energies. Jazz was refreshingly new-to-her in his scent, still touched by the interplanetary journey here, with an overlay of his reunion with Prime, as well as the crispness of having been active in the 'fight' since arriving at base.

"So am I," she finally answered him, once she had him firmly fixed in her senses. She had learned to use all of her senses early on, learning they all loved to be praised by the way they affected all of them, not just touch and sound.

Jazz gave a humming, questioning sound as he deftly moved aside the satin robe she was wearing, uncovering the cotton tank top and boxers she wore underneath. He had perused the Internet enough to know that her responses would likely be stronger with the removal of decorative material, but that simply taking them off of her could be either highly appropriate, or inappropriate depending on the circumstance. He also knew that the males her species had a tendency to rush things in terms of their genitalized focus. He wanted to enjoy all of her, and had no particular extra interest in any one portion of her organic frame than any other, save for how it affected her enjoyment of the shared pleasure. It was her energies, the spark-like resonances he could teek in and around her that called to him the most strongly. She was cohort, and they had a bond to consummate.

Mikaela gave a hushed moan at the fall of her robe, aware of the pulse of the energy fields around Jazz as they increased their cycling. It was a ghostly touch, one she was feeling more strongly every time she joined with one of the Autobots. One of many ways they had changed her, she decided, and did not regret it in the least. "Already pretty revved, aren't you?" she asked him, voice going a little more thick with curiosity for how Jazz would make love to her.

Jazz deliberately swelled his fields, monitoring the results on her vitals and pheromones, knowing she could, in her own way, teek what most in her species were oblivious to. "Ah am, at that. Not all battles involve pain, and there's things Ah can do that Soundwave found mighty distractin'." The ungrounded charge traveling his relays surged just in response to the memory file his latest round with his adversary, as well as the way Mikaela's own fields flared in response to and recognition of his own. She'd never even touched his spark, and still their energies recognized one another as cohort, in this case, fellow consorts to their hub, the Prime. It was intoxicating to see those alien energies do their own improvisation on the familiar cohort patterns.

"Oh damn... lucky him." She meant it only for having been 'distracted' by Jazz. Just the way his fields flared on her skin was enough to arouse her so fully. He radiated a sensuality that was different than her other lovers, with an underlying easiness that made her relax fully into his care. "So...where are your hot spots? You've got Prime's memories to help you, but I can't reach out and touch the others for hints." She pouted prettily at him as she moved closer, fully intending to lay on him some way or other, to be in closer contact.

As if sensing her intentions, he gracefully rolled onto his back, wrapping his four-digit hand around her to lift her off the bed and bring her to his chest plating. "Technically, we're disobeyin' Ratchet now, 'cause you're outta bed, but still on the berth, so Ah think we're still maintainin' the spirit of the order. So, here's mah first question for ya as head of Ops. Knowin' mah function, an' your knowledge from Ratchet of mah frametype, cause Ah know ya helped with the repairs, where do ya think mah hot spots are? Knowin' that can come mighty useful in interrogations."

"I woke up on Prime, so I don't think this is so bad at all," Mikaela said with an impish smile. Then she settled herself a little more firmly, remembering how it had felt to cuddle with Bumblebee even before she'd known what could happen between their species. With a look of enjoyment on her face for his challenge to her, she started inspecting his design by touch and sight. She found her hands sweeping down and out along the scoop line between his grills, loving the way the metal felt under her finger tips. "I could really enjoy figuring them out, as sexy as your lines are."

Jazz's engine gave a purr at the complement. He did like this particular alt, and the fact that Prime had picked it for him did all the right things to him. He liked the way his alt drew energetic and pheromonal responses from the organics on base, in addition to the expected reactions from his fellow Autobots. Humans had a rather unique relationship with their vehicles compared to what he'd seen in other organic species who'd developed that technology. That fact, and the spark-like quality of the resonance in the human currently exploring his frame made him wonder just what the AllSpark had been up to during the path of human evolution. It wasn't like the ancient artifact had ever spent any manner of time, unshielded, among organics before Earth, at least not in any of history he was aware of.

He deliberately jacked up his pressure sensors to their highest levels to interact with the hands moving along his lines, arching into her touch that was feeling so different, but so good. "Prime an' the others ever introduce ya t' any of our toys?" he asked, already coming up with several hundred ideas of what he could improvise that would feel good to her, and vice versa. His vocalizer gave a quick static burst when her hand crossed a particularly sensitive node.

"Mmmm." Mikaela studied just where she had touched when his voice did that, and found the corresponding sensor node on the other side. She used a firm touch in her exploration, well aware the pressure needed to be strong on the plating, but later, when she accessed his interior wiring and cables, her feather-light touches would wreak havoc. "Mentioned. Only a few mods for my pleasure so far, though."

He hummed in pleasure at her firmer touch, and flared his plating in places to invite deeper exploration. His plating heated in anticipation of what her tiny digits would be able to reach. "See what ya think of this," he said in a low voice as he turned his own, built-in toy on her, using his specialized magnetic field generators to send pulses through her, tuning into and caressing the different fields that her differentiated cells produced. He marveled at how she was like millions of tiny organisms that made up a large one, but instead of it surrounding a central spark like his own nanites-based systems did, each of her cells pulsed with the resonance of her unique spark-like energy, as well as their own particular resonance. He found the wave resonance associated with the c-tactile nerve fibres in her dermal layer, the fibres specifically associated with touch-pleasure, and sent a pulse at their frequency threshold, giving her the illusion of feather-lite touches all over her skin.

Mikaela gasped quietly, rocking against his plating at the way that made her entire body feel. "Oh, I think I like that..." she moaned. In response, she slipped her hands inside his plating, fingers stroking along more sensitive internal arrays that connected to the sensor nodes she had already mapped out. "I like it a lot."

"An' ah like that a whole lot, too," Jazz practically purred as her fingers dipped into sensitive places that only the smallest of mechs had the ability to reach, and then, not with nearly the delicacy and control she showed. "Ah have similar sensor arrays as a scout, bein' Ops," he explained as he arched into her touch. "Bee an' me got the most tactile sensitivity of any mechs on Earth, unless there are Seekers still around, or rotors would be quite sensitive as well," he added in a very distracted tone thanks to the movements of her hands. He set his magnetic pulses to caress her encouragingly, but hopefully not distract her as he was anxious to deal with the lingering charge from his games with Soundwave and then give her some proper attention.

"Rotors? Really? Oh Skyhammer, you are in so much trouble the next time you pull that vibration trick..." she managed to get out before his caresses of her nerves with his deft pulses made her writhe against his frame, feeling everything beginning to pool into a nice, centered warmness that resonated in her bio-electric field. "And...the only Seeker around is Optimus...I think." She traced a line within him, catching it between finger and thumb, to roll it just a little, a soft, gentle tweaking that Ratchet said was stimulating. "Never explored 'Bee this way...he's Sam's, and I avoid Sam, to keep from causing stress."

Jazz couldn't make himself comment back for a moment as her subtle touches sent tingling jolts along his sensor net in all the right ways, building the charge, making her dark hair stand on end as she touched him. And oh, she was lovely with that dark halo of hair standing up on her head with a bit of his charge racing through her. With a cocky grin, he sent a pulse that made it stand out even straighter.

He couldn't wait to touch her with his spark, to complete the cohort bond that was begging for consummation. "So good at this, Mik," he murmured, loosening his armor further and unlocking his chest so more of his spark's field could touch her, know her. "Most Seekers would object violently to Optimus being called one, but Jetfire would be honored. Have ya played with him with his flight tech connected? The connector points, at least, are just the right size for you to really get your hands in."

"I've been gone too much to fully explore him," she admitted. "But I do know the connectors are sensitive, and many of his sensors are too. They got Jetfire's upgrades, letting him be more aware of stimulation." She wished the cranky ancient Seeker had survived Egypt, but his sacrifice did not go unappreciated by her when she could be with Optimus. As Jazz's spark field touched her, Mikaela's concentration focused on pleasing him more, letting her own arousal and pleasure simmer in the background. She wouldn't say she was addicted to the way her cohort reacted to her, but there was nothing like riding out the overload and feeling as the coronal energies surrounded her.

"Can't wait to teek his reaction when we tag team him and get to know the upgrades together," Jazz said in a tone that was almost a sigh as he relaxed completely into her skilled touch, so obviously mentored by Ratchet but with her own unique, creative flair. His spark surged again and he opened his plates a bit wider. He didn't need to ask to sense her comfort with taking turns in pleasure. There was never a question of that, within a cohort. Not really. They took care of one another, no matter what.

That thought briefly turned his processors to her earlier comment. "Ah'll help get Bee an' Sam all sorted out. Bee needs some attention somethin' fierce, and the entire cohort has held back out of respect for Sam, but he's old enough now for some mech to man honesty."

Mikaela made a thoughtful noise on that matter, but did not comment directly. Instead, she slid her fingers along the sensor connections one more time before freeing them to bring up and stroke the edges of the chest plates, a smile on her lips as the pulse of light and its caress on her skin mingled to show her just how she affected the mech. "Feels...lighter, but edged," she murmured as she felt the encroachment of him within her cells, the intimate connections forming that she could only sense on a barely instinctive level.

Jazz grinned at her perceptiveness. A few small human words, without the nuances of their glyphs and the multiple signifiers capable of modifying their meanings, and yet it was clear from them just how much she already teeked. "Want t' feel more?" Jazz asked, parting his plates wide enough to give her access to the most sensitive of his internals. "Ratchet thinks the more contact ya have, the more you'll feel, and the more we'll feel you. Ah'm lookin' forward to testin' out that theory."

Mikaela breathed out a moan of anticipation. "Believe me, I can't wait to help test the theory either," she told him, before leaning toward the glow of energy, moving along his frame so that she could be as close to the core of his very being as possible. "Know it's changing me, but...only for the better." She felt the crackle of the rising charge making every hair stand on end that could, loved the ripple of pure corona around her hand when she reached between the plates to directly touch the energies there. She had no doubt that if this weren't consensual, those energies would be devastating, but like Optimus, like Ratchet... Jazz's spark knew her already, and accepted her as part of itself.

"Beautiful," he said with a sigh as she came into direct contact with what was yearning for her. Whispers of emotions, both alien and yet familiar called him to reach out further, twining around her hands and up her arms the way it might twine around the corona of another spark. His spark surged as it encountered what it sought, the spark-like energy that infused every one of her cells, sending a pulse of welcome as her code was imprinted. The excitement, the new yet strangely familiar patterns of this alien who was also sibling-lover-partner added to the already racing charge, and heat began to pour off of him in earnest as he moaned and called her designation with each pulse of his spark.

Mikaela welcomed the sweat that broke on her skin when his plates warmed so fully. She loved laying against them like this, memories of making love with Sam on Bumblebee's hood trickling through the back of her mind. She had always loved the smell and feel of a sun-warmed car, and now... now she had something even better. Her body was tingling all over, the need growing, pulsing through her weaker fields at him, even as she gave the rest of her attention to stroking the spark case or the edges of his protective plates. He felt amazing to her, a part of her that she had come to long for through her other cohort-bonds without even understanding or realizing it.

"Oh sweet Primus," Jazz called, placing his hands protectively around her as he arched his back, his spark surging for her, wrapping her in his energies and completing the cohort bond in a manner that should have been impossible but was instead effortless as he took her into himself, beloved, cherished, united by their devotion to Optimus. He could _feel_ her, so much more of her than he had expected to be able to. The familiar energies that swirled within her, were as powerful and cleansing as that of any of the sparks of his cohort, even if he could not understand her as deeply and fully as he wished. The sweetness of the overload rushing through him was tempered with a sudden spark-deep pang of just how short lived the cells that contained her spark were, how soon those energies would be released. He resolved to know her as deeply and fully as he could while they remained.

Something in the twining of his energies around her must have told her, or else she was used to the occasional bouts from her other lovers, because Mikaela stretched up along his frame, body bathed in his energies, and rested there in reassurance. "We always have now," she assured him. "It's all anyone has."

"Haven't had as much time for the reality t' sink in," he murmured, fully covering her for a moment with his hands almost as protectively as Prime was prone to. Then, he removed his hands, as though releasing the worry and fear, and traced a line down her back with a gentle claw, then back up again. He deftly hooked it underneath the tank top she was still wearing and slipped it up and off, before doing the same with the loose boxers. "Gonna touch ya every slagging chance ah get."

"No complaints here." Mikaela shivered as the air cooled her sweat-sheened skin. "Want your touch. Want to feel the way you run your digits over me," she encouraged him, resting her body along his frame in invitation of just that course of action.

Jazz reached to the bed and pulled over the thick down blanket from her bed, lifting her for a moment to lay it underneath her where she rested on his still-open plates, settling her on her back. His spark field and tendrils of his corona continuing to languidly reach out to her with a sense of contentment as he began to run one of his clawed finger down her her side with a near aching slowness, then back up again, this time running two of them up each leg, lingering to trace patterns around the bones of her hips. She felt his digits sweep along her abdomen in a swirling pattern, and realized that movement was not random as he created flourishes around her navel and breasts, in her sternum and along the hollow of her throat.

As electric as all of her skin felt, every touch made her more aroused. She was hungry for anything that moved her toward completion, and the fire in her nerves from his touch was doing just fine along those lines. "Yes..." Mikaela tried to be still, but she wanted to rock and writhe for him. Her compromise was to draw one hand in, running it along a thigh to her hip, fingers idly tangling in her own curls after a moment while Jazz marked her as he chose.

Jazz purred at the growing indicators of her arousal, chemical, physiological, and energetic, his sensors mapping her deeply. Even as he continued to trace upon her the glyphs of an ancient bonding song, his other hand came up, and a far larger digit covered her own small ones, and with gentle pressure, pushed the softness of her own fingers toward her aching bundle of nerves, adding a magnetic pulse to the stimulation. The digit on top of hers began, also, to send waves of vibration that were transmitted through her own fingers to where they were needed the most.

"Oh holy...yes, don't you dare stop, Jazz," Mik demanded/pleaded, even as she started touching herself in earnest, aided by the way he affected her. Now she could not stay so still, because he was pushing her to new limits, and it felt so good. Her body was lit up from the inside out in pleasure and need both.

A chuckle met her demand, the vibrations of his laughter added to the pulsating vibrations over her own moving hand. The clawed fingers of his free hand began sweeping along her inner thighs and over her breasts, and she felt warmth from each stroke that somehow lingered and radiated outward from his touches, tingling. She was suddenly and vividly aware of his spark energy expanding again, pulsing in time with the vibrations his finger, increasing in tempo as her energies grew. She could hear and feel each wave of vibrations in her very bones.

"So lovely," he crooned as she writhed on him.

"Make...me...so..hungry," she managed to say, feeling the first of the shudders building within her. "Don't want to stop..." She spread her free hand wide on the smooth part of his plating, pushing at the blanket so she could, just to feel him and ground herself in that contact.

"Ah'm not gonna let ya go, not gonna stop," he promised. "Not till ya overload as much as you can take." He could teek the spark-like energy that infused her reaching for his own pulsing spark, her hand on his plating and his digits that were in contact with her flesh completing a circuit that allowed those energies to mingle, making him, in turn, shudder underneath her and increase the vibration frequency as his own charge built again.

Mikaela closed her eyes, focused on his energy, feeling it, then let the vibrations become her whole world. She moved her fingers, stroking along her most sensitive node, augmented by all Jazz did. Below her, his frame hummed with new power. Around her, coronal energy whispered and danced along her skin. With her eyes closed, those feelings amplified, her only connection to the world, and she knew she was not going to last much longer.

Jazz's olfactory sensors catalogued the complex chemical aroma of slick moisture below her most sensitive node, finding, like with so many of the utterly alien experiences of this life-filled world, that it titillated him and made him yearn for more. His auditory sensors noted the rushing of her blood, the loud thudding of her heart and the growing frantic quality of her respiration, so similar to the more mechanical sounds coming from his own pump, vents, and lines. The heat radiating from between her thighs revealed the extra blood filling her capillaries there. He added just a bit of pressure with his finger atop her hand, and felt the firing of those nerves briefly slow and ease off in preparation for the release that was coming. He added a rocking motion to the vibrations of his finger, and a bit more pressure. "So lovely, Mik. Just let go," he urged her, the resonance of his voice traveling through his frame, bursts of static revealing just what her own building energies was doing to him. He had little doubt that her release would bring his own spark along for the ride and add to the peak of her pleasure.

Mikaela's breath caught in her throat at hearing him give her permission to go over the edge, and it twisted inside her, that little edge of a game she hadn't even sensed they were playing. It also had the desired effect, as she moved her fingers beneath the pressure of his one more time and felt the muscles all tighten, before her voice locked on a soft keen of pleasure. She bucked with the strength of her climax, rubbing against his finger, with only her own hand to protect fragile skin, but oh it felt so good to have that pressure there.

She gave another cry as a surge of spark energy flooded her, Jazz's spark overloading in response to the their mingled energies. It was a familiar feeling now, yet different with each mech, and the more times it happened, the more she became certain she felt emotions along with the physical sensations pulsing through her. It bound them, tightened each to the other, while strengthening the whole web of the cohort's design.

Long moments of sheer sensation, echoed in emotive thoughts, passed before Mikaela was able to do more than move against Jazz's frame, hand never leaving his chest plate to keep the circuit together. When she could do more than just feel and breathe in gasps, she went limp along the blanket between them, eyes closing. There wasn't an ounce of restlessness in her now, as the full body satiation set in. "Mmm, good to me, Jazz-man."

"Happy t' oblige, little lady, feelin's mutual, ya know. Now why don't ya make the Hatchet happy and have a rest on my chassis," he suggested, stroking her hair and warming his plating to encourage her sated mood.

"I'm surprised he didn't come in here having a fit," Mikaela mumbled as her body sank into a boneless state of complete relaxation that always seemed to follow exposure to the intimate energies of her cohort.

"Ah commed him 'fore we even started. Apparently it was on the list of encouraged rather than prohibited activities."

That made her laugh a little, but the sound died off, settling into a more even breathing, a steady heart-beat, and a calm pulse that all told Jazz sleep had claimed her. She was content on his chest, evidently, as she hadn't even drawn the edge of the blanket up over her.

He was about to remedy that, when Ratchet appeared and beat him to it, pulling a warm blanket from a compartment in his thigh and draping it on the sleeping human with a sound that was a mixture of exasperation and affection. He clearly had been monitoring the entire time.

"Not my usual lights and sounds show," Jazz teased, voice soft and low.

"Mmm, better." Ratchet rubbed a digit along Jazz's helm in affection. "Now get your aft in recharge too, or I'll use protocols! No sense wasting a good overload like that!"

"Not gonna argue, but settin' the timer to come out in half a joor. Old Wave ain't stayin' caught in my trap forever."

"I know." Ratchet gave him an affectionate nudge down the bonds to rest. "I'll relieve you then, of human care-taking. 'Bout time I get to cuddle her."


	4. Parting Gift Megatron x Optimus Prime

**Title**: Patronus Outtake 4 - Parting Gift  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Bayverse, DotM  
><strong>Authors<strong>: Merfilly  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Optimus Prime/Megatron  
><strong>Chapter Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Megatron gives Optimus a parting he will never forget.

**WARNINGS**: mech/mech (spark)

**Notes:** This is meant to overlap the epilogue of "Patronus", and Part Five of "To Build a Future" which can be found under her profile on An Archive of Our Own (archiveofourown . org / series / 9254) This was authored solo by Merfilly, but is posted here with the other Outtakes with her permission.

Optimus Prime was feeling very relaxed, calm even. Things at the party had been joyous, once the showdown with Megatron ended. Annabelle's charm had taken them all in, and Ironhide was not the only one to be called upon to dance with her. Yet as the party wore down, and the humans slowly melted away, Optimus felt the pull of the outside world on his spark, thus declining, very gently, the offer to join his cohort in their choices of entertainment for after the festive gathering.

He patted at Ratchet's shoulder, pressed his helm to Jazz's, ran a finger along Mikaela's hair, and lightly touched Bumblebee's back in passing, but now that he was relaxed, he wanted the outside, the night air, the stars of his chosen world.

About ten miles past the base, he suddenly knew the pull was not just the night alone, and some of the tension from earlier returned. The road was no longer one of solitary meditation as a more battered, gun-metal gray mech took up a place alongside Optimus.

::Calm, my brother,:: came the amused, almost gentle words along that bond that now gleamed with new life and stronger presence.

::Megatron, you…::

::Come now, Optimus,:: Megatron interrupted. ::Did you honestly think I would leave you to your exile without one last, private encounter?:: With those words, Megatron flared his fields, possessively and hungrily reaching along the Autobot leader's, earning a reward of the wheels almost locking in shuddering need for more.

::Megatron, we should not,:: Optimus tried to protest, but though the words came down, there was no willpower in the glyphs behind them.

::When, dear brother, have I ever let your ideas of should and should not stand in my way?:: With that, Megatron veered sharply into Optimus's path, forcing the other truck to go off road, where he tumbled into mech form. This was just what Megatron wanted, and he followed suit, leaping forward and bringing his Prime down on the dirt of his new world. No one was near, and the stars burned bright with little city pollution to dim them.

Optimus had always been the most beautiful under the stars. All the modifications done to him since the war began had not changed this, so far as Megatron was concerned.

::If it had, we might not now stand on a barely sealed truce,:: Optimus pointed out, trying to summon all those deaths and the suffering as reason to not give into the pulse of his spark.

::If it had, you and I might both be dead at the hands of those who would have demanded change no matter what,:: Megatron growled, noting that Optimus did not struggle against him. Indeed, his brother's frame was all but quivering in anticipation of the coming union. ::You missed what I do to you, brother.::

::You were meant to be first bond,:: Optimus accused, with all the layers of their customs under that. Megatron laughed, though, before running his glossa over the edge of Optimus's mobile lips.

::You know I could not give you that then.:: The phrasing was strange, but before Optimus could question, Megatron let his chestplates open, revealing a spark that was discolored and dim in places, while blinding with the red fury of war in others. ::Just as I will not leave now without having a complete sense of you, brother. Let us forge the true bond, so that you may know me completely, and I you, before we separate for the vorns to come.:: The words were strong, driving, and yet… Megatron allowed for Optimus to refuse him.

Nor was it an invitation to refuse him just so Megatron could overpower him. Optimus was completely at a loss for concepts, let alone words, but entranced, seeing that broken, flickering spark revealed before him.

::Brother,:: Prime assented, opening himself, the Matrix shunted behind the casing of his spark as it avoided the broken, misused, and tyrannical warlord. Optimus's spark, however, reached, even as data ports opened and cabling was loosed on both sides of the intended merge. This was not about interfacing, not right now. Megatron had sought him out, offered this, and Optimus could guess that part of it was to anchor himself in the face of the burden he had taken up.

Was the rest of it a search for healing?

Cables slid home into ports, joining their memories, their currents, their very beings on one level, before they came together even more completely as Optimus's spark coaxed and caressed the warrior's more damaged one into a merge. Optimus almost stopped, as Megatron gasped in near-pain, but the stronger mech clutched at the one below him, pulling their frames into tighter union.

::Must…:: was all Optimus heard before the full contact exploded between them.

_A world turned wrong, bitter and foul with the stench of slavery. A need to protect those under his care turned inside out, poisoned by seeing that he himself was part of the problem. A people that could not even see their dire straits, desperate need for them to see, to understand, at war with all that his class protocols demanded. A break in himself, healed only slightly by the optimism of his young, new Prime. A rift growing deeper with every report of violence in the colonies, in the cities. His desire for change swept up in his disgust that too many did not see the rot at the core of their society._

_Words whispered in his audials on one side by a grief-deranged Seeker. More words, from a voice more ancient than any around him. Words that showed him he held true power. Change was his power. He could make the mecha see it, accept it, and that would protect them._

_He would protect his own._

_His own were only those who followed._

With each narrowing of his focus, Megatron had broken something more inside himself. A guardian by coding, but the base conflict had begun when all he had been trained to do to protect the people had been at war with the plain truth that their society had already begun to fail. Optimus took all that in, saw the twisting that both the Fallen, and less knowingly, Starscream, had managed.

It did not excuse Megatron by far. However, it did begin to explain that which Optimus had never understood.

Optimus took it in, let Megatron control the flow of energies between them, letting him take and take as he needed to be renewed in ways Optimus did not. Memories of the war, of learning to supplant true pleasure with only the joy of destruction came next, followed closely by the overwhelming rage at being denied his prize. Lastly, before Megatron cut off the memories, was the unending loneliness and agony as the cold stole away his life force, making him just a frame around a dimly glowing spark on this rock.

Optimus would not let it end on such a note, and he held on to Megatron's presence and frame tightly.

_A world that felt wrong, that needed guidance. Hope, upon meeting his brother. Seeing in him so much awareness of the world. The warmth he had found in those long, early cycles, sharing the burden of ruling under Sentinel's regency. Feeling ashamed that the Prime was there to teach him, but the previous Protector was not. Wanting to share his tutor with Megatron. Wishing for more time with him._

_Despair as things came to blows._

_Hope fading over the war._

_Finding new hope, the moment a hand, not a weapon, extended down to him._

_Fanning that hope higher on Megatron's truce with him._

_Pride, to have a brother strong enough to face the past, and to build a future._

Megatron's spark flared hard as that pride struck him, and he let his own pride in a brother strong enough to have opposed him and survived so long twine their sparks even closer, feeding back some of the energy to Prime before expertly amping up the currents flowing through their shared systems. It was not sensual and it was not loving, but the charge carried enough zest to it to let both tingle through a minor overload, their sparks pulsing in time with it.

After, as red optics cleared, and he could look down into blue ones, Megatron smiled without malice, without any darker emotion tinging it.

Optimus decided that that was just how he would remember his brother in the long absence to come.


	5. Femme Mikaela x Ratchet

**Title:** Femme  
><strong>Author:<strong> Femme4jack  
><strong>Continuity:<strong> Bayverse (could either be Patronus or Ozone AU, and can stand on its own)  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Mikaela Banes/Ratchet, Mikaela Banes/Jazz  
><strong>Rating:<strong>T (PG-13)  
><strong>Content Notes:<strong>Innuendo, flirting, minor fields and tactile intimacy, xeno  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Mikaela tests out a new invention.

_Written for Merfilly! I have probably thoroughly sent Mikaela into Mary Sue territory for this. You know what? Sometimes we just have to embrace the inner fangirl and let her have her way._

* * *

><p>"Okay, let's give this a try," Mikaela said, shaking her arms and legs a bit like she was about to run a race, completely at ease with her nudity, a precaution for the first trial of the invention.<p>

Ratchet tried not to let his anxiety blossom out into his field. She was far too adept at sensing their energies now, and he did not wish to detract from her excitement. Wheeljack's field was all giddy anticipation, his head fins flashing merrily as Mikaela touched the sequence on the epidermal terminal on her upper wrist.

Instantly, the air around her appeared to shimmer briefly as the nanite symbionts in her cells accessed the subspace dimensional pocket Wheeljack had developed. Just as suddenly, the organic member of the medic's cohort was covered head to toe in living Cybertronian alloy, thin enough for her frame to carry, but still providing a great deal of protection thanks to the energy shielding the armor's nanites provided.

The visor over her eyes lit up bright white and then settled into a brilliant blue.

"Whoa," her voice came out sounding slightly more resonant through the vocalizer of the helm. "This is so weird."

"Define weird, Mikaela. How do you feel?" Ratchet asked, initiating several dozen different sensor scans of both her own organic systems and the complex Cybertronian systems of the armor that now enveloped her.

"I didn't expect it to feel so much... a part of me. Like my own skin."

"It should, if everything is working optimally," Wheeljack said, speaking fast in his excitement. "The microfiliments that connect the armor to your brain and central nervous system should give you just that feeling. You should be able to access numerous armor functions on your HUD just by thinking about them. Try accessing the chromonanites."

"How...oh, just by thinking about it. Wow!"

The surface of the armor blurred, and suddenly the basic silver had shifted into a gunmetal grey that was almost black.

Ratchet cocked an optical ridge at the choice.

"What? Flattery will get me bigger guns," she said, and then laughed brightly as she added a set of v-shaped stripes in a brilliant blue that bordered on indigo.

"Very nice!" Wheeljack said enthusiastically. "Prime will be so pleased."

"Notice she didn't pick anything from yer color scheme, doc" Jazz said, sauntering in as though he had not just raced across the Mars base when he'd gotten the comm that the test had begun.

"Nor yours, I'll note, you cheeky slagger," Ratchet retorted, his field pulsing briefly with annoyance.

"What? Lady already has a visor like mine. Two hot silver bods with visors would be too much sexy for this system." Jazz ducked deftly out of the way when Ratchet swatted at his helm.

"Okay, I'm going to try moving," Mikaela announced when she had finished adding details and highlights to the armor that wrapped her, giving her the streamlined appearance of a deadly little femme. Ratchet felt his spark spin faster in response.

Her first couple of steps were hesitant, but soon she was walking, and then jogging around the room as though she'd always had metal skin, the solid sound of her footfalls on the floor a comfort to all three of the mechs present because of what it represented in terms of protecting the organic member of Prime's cohort.

"Try something acrobatic, Mikaela," Wheeljack suggested. "The tension cabling in the armor can amplify your movements."

"It will still hurt when you fall," Ratchet cautioned. "Though not much unless you are in danger of doing something that could breach the protective layers or injure your actual body."

"When I fall? Thanks for the vote of confidence," Mikaela complained before starting across the room with a loping stride toward the wall, with the intention of launching herself into a backflip off of it. Only she didn't realize how much 'assistance' the armor would give and ended up with an added half rotation, landing flat on her back with a loud crash.

"Ow," she said, giving herself a shake as she got up. "But not as much ow as that would have been," she added.

"Do that again," Wheeljack urged, clearly pleased. "The proprioceptors are still calibrating to your own systems. That shouldn't happen a second time."

Mikaela gave the inventor a salute and ran for the wall again, this time executing the flip with the same grace she had learned in Jazz's training, only with a far bigger motion. She launched into a back handspring as soon as her feet hit the ground.

"Yes! That feels amazing!" she pronounced, this time running toward the three mechs and, with a brief burst of code through the comms that had years ago been implanted in her brain, signaled Jazz to launch her from his clawed hands up to Ratchet in a coordinated move she could use to inflict a quick and deadly strike in battle. Except that as she got close, she suddenly stumbled as the silver mech's field hit the receptors in the armor and an electric shiver of pleasure raced all over her new outer layer.

"What is that?" Mikaela gasped, falling against Jazz who crouched and wrapped his arms around her helpfully.

"Your suit's EMF sensors are teeking his field, and transmitting the data in a form your nervous system can recognize" Wheeljack explained helpfully, even as Jazz gave a low purr into her audio, modulating said field so that another warm rush washed over her, then deepened and seemed to push into her core and up her spine.

Her own sense of those fields had been growing with the changes her frequent exposure to spark energy had wielded in her ever so receptive subatomic particles. But this was something completely new.

"Ya like that?" Jazz said in a low voice as he pushed his field into her again, running a claw along her plating with far less caution than he would normally need to touch her with.

"I... oh slag yes," she moaned, before extracting herself from the deadly silver embrace. "But I promised someone else that he'd get first go at testing the haptic sensors," she said shakily.

"Prime ain't here," Jazz crooned.

"She didn't promise Prime," Ratchet interrupted, static lacing his tone as his optics took in the form of the lithe femme with near feral intensity. "I have the proper sensor suite to be sure that the suit's haptics and EMF sensors are properly... calibrated to Mikaela's central nervous system."

Mikaela gave her commander a cheeky wave and winked her visor before taking a leap to climb up her former mentor's chassis, who ushered her into one of the medical bay's private rooms without a backward look.

"What do the humans call that? Getting pwned?" Wheeljack asked innocently, his head fins laughing with color.

"Mute it, Wheeljack," Jazz pouted.


	6. Love and Marriage IronhidexSarahxWill

**Title:** Love and Marriage (A Patronus-Verse Outtake)  
><strong>Authors:<strong> Merfilly and Femme4jack  
><strong>Continuity:<strong> Movieverse (Patronus AU)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Will Lennox/Sarah Lennox, Will Lennox/Ironhide/Sarah Lennox, Ironhide/Ratchet, mentions Mikaela/Prime's Cohort, Mikaela/Sam  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Much to Ironhide's pleasure, Sarah and Will decide to strengthen the bond they have with their guardian.  
><strong>Content Advice:<strong> Explicit xeno and human intimacy (spark, tactile, tentacle-like cables, human intercourse)

**Notes:** Written in celebration of the birthday of the marvelous Mmouse15! This story takes place sometime in the year following the 2009 movie, prior to the events of Patronus.

* * *

><p>"Alright, talk to me," Sarah said to the younger woman. Mikaela had come to stay at the farm for a week after the inevitable had happened between her and Sam, but she knew that wasn't what the blonde was referring to. That topic was a subject matter that had truly been closed nearly a year prior, when Sam had once again pulled back from the connections she'd embraced, isolating himself and his lonely guardian even further.<p>

"I can't believe you haven't yet, to be honest," Mikaela answered, sipping her tea. "It isn't like Ironhide is at all prudish. As far as I've seen, he is pretty much either 'facing or fighting, and enjoys both in equal parts."

"It's... I would say it's complicated, but it really isn't. Will and I both had a pretty religious upbringing. When we vowed to be faithful, we meant it," Sarah said hesitantly.

"And then you both got married to a giant robot from outer space," Mikaela teased gently.

"Monogamy really doesn't compute for them," Sarah shook her head and rolled her eyes. "He's always respected it. He knows, though."

"Knows that you ruin your panties every time you are in his field?" Mikaela said with a laugh.

Sarah nearly sprayed her tea, laughing. "Yeah, that, the smug bastard. He just gives me that look. How does a truck give you a look when you are riding in him?"

"You ought to see the look he gives when you are riding him," the younger woman said conspiratorially.

"Which is exactly why I'm talking to you. How does it even work? You aren't even... compatible with them."

"Oh, you have no idea how compatible they are..."

"Then tell me. He's not here, won't be for a while," Sarah coaxed. "Just you and me, with Annabelle safe asleep."

Mikaela's smile was all kinds of wicked. "So, there's lots of ways, and they are amazing at coming up with new ones. You've already felt his field. That's a combination of the EM from his nanites, but mostly his spark, and they can do a lot just with that, if you're sensitive to it, which you are. Ironhide has extenders on his fingers he uses for fine tuning his cannons, and has... modified them to feel..."

"... like tentacles?" Sarah asked, eyes wide.

Mikaela laughed. "Well, not as good as Prime's," she told her friend. "But he had his made specifically for me." Her eyes gleamed as Sarah's went wide, but Sarah leaned in to listen more, and that was all the encouragement Mikaela needed to wax poetic about her cohort, especially Ironhide.

* * *

><p>Will flicked a rock out, perfect angle to his wrist, letting it go skidding across the pond on the back forty of the farm. He leaned back against the Topkick after he had, just watching the skips, counting the ripples he made. It was something akin to his life; right place, wrong time, and he was still feeling the splashes ripple over him.<p>

"Ironhide?" he questioned, quietly, seeing if his partner was recharging or paying attention.

Ironhide shifted and grunted in response, coming back online from the light recharge he'd allowed himself in the warmth of Earth's sun. He knew his human charge and partner was thinking too much, knew exactly what he would do if one of his cohort was in a similar state. Sparring or interface or, preferably, both. At least, with Will, he could offer the soldier the first, and give him more skills that would help him survive his next Decepticon encounter.

"Been thinking, about how meeting our not so friendly 'copter out in the desert led to this moment," he said, knowing Ironhide was listening to him. "And I know, it could have been any of the teams out there. Just got to wondering, what was it about my team, about my family, that made you want to stick around so hard? A lot of the others, they work with anyone assigned, but from day one, it was like... you chose us."

Human males, Ironhide recalled, often spoke more easily to one another when they did not have to look one another in the eye. He resisted the urge to transform for the conversation, as well as the urge to curse at something that would be far easier to show than to explain.

"Sparks need to connect," Ironhide said, trying to find the words in such a limited and primitive language for something that was complex and indescribable even with Cybertronian glyphs. "Prime... is the center of our cohort. He connected with this world, declared it our home when we've been without one. My coding is to be guardian to individuals and cohorts of my own kind. I asked Ratchet to adjust it, to include what my cohort's hub had already bonded with. Unlike Prime, my guardian bonds are not with an entire species or world. I must bond with individuals."

Ironhide paused, well aware he had not answered his partner's real question. Will was waiting, obviously listening closely as the he responded with far more words than he normally offered.

"Most all of the soldiers who have fought with us have proven brave and resourceful, but you, Mikaela and Sam all behaved like members of a cohort would in Mission City, and made yourself targets as a result. You... chose us, nearly offlined yourself to keep Blackout from assisting Megatron, so my choice was simple, once I came to terms with it. You behaved like cohort, you and your family need protecting because you are up on par with Sam when it comes to making yourself an enemy of our enemy. You have a youngling and a mate. I could not choose otherwise."

"Even so..." Will hesitated, then pulled his chin up, facing the unknown squarely. "You made it formal. Not just watching over us like Bumblebee does with Sam. You made me and Sarah know what it meant." He was struggling to find words, to react to the fact he was changed by Ironhide, that he knew his wife was, and the heavens only knew what it did to Annabelle to be around such energies constantly.

Ironhide took his time in responding, memories of other charges in a long history of guardianships affecting his spark, even in the many cases when he could not recall a designation or an image. Finally, he chuckled, finding a simple answer to a complex question. "I like to bond, Will. I always have. Just watching over was not enough. Not when my spark decided it wanted your cohort... your family." It didn't explain the extraordinary development of bonding with members of an ephemeral species, but that reality was something Ironhide did not care to process for long.

Will pressed his back into the truck's body, feeling better just for hearing Ironhide say that. "Makes you sound kinda easy, pal," he joked a little.

"Where I come from, that is a compliment, Major," Ironhide said, rocking forward slightly.

Will chuckled at him. "Beginning to see that...or at least hear it, around the base," he told his partner. "You guys aren't subtle."

Ironhide rocked again, deliberately playful. He didn't need Ratchet's medical sensors to know that Will's reactions to that lack of subtlety had moved beyond shock to something far more interesting early in the game. "You and your mate are not exactly quiet. It is an impressive amount of noise for creatures so tiny."

Will's heart rate shot up, and he could feel the blood rushing to the tips of his ears. He ducked his head, but it was true. Sarah got loud, and lately... lately, Sarah had been curious about things. Things that Will didn't know if he could or should discuss, especially when Ironhide was bad about starting things with the other Autobots before the humans even cleared out for the day. He'd be lying if he ever said he wasn't curious too, or that he sometimes felt like Ironhide was deliberately trying to bait him into something outside his upbringing.

"Will," Ironhide spoke his name in a different tone that that did all the wrong things to the soldier... or right thing depending on the point of view. It was both infinitely gentle and suggestive, all in a single syllable. "Would it make things simpler to explain that I desire both of you? But more than that, I desire for you to feel safe with me. I will not push past boundaries that are truly important to you."

Will did not swallow his tongue. He didn't even choke as he heard those words. He did feel like he was thirteen all over again, with a copy of his dad's dirty magazines back behind the gym, hoping coach didn't catch him and his pals looking at it.

"Whoa, big fella, I just..." His attempt at bluster fell short, though, because it was a lie, and he didn't lie to his partner. "Okay, yeah, I think I've been edging around to that," he admitted.

"You both desire me as well. It's natural. You've touched my spark, and our energies resonate," Ironhide continued, refusing to back down from his blunt assessment of the topic his charges had been dancing around for too long. "But you fear indulging your curiosity will harm your own family unit. If you were Cybertronians, I would say that you and Sarah anchor one another, as Ratchet and I do. I will admit that it is difficult for me to process that being harmed by my sharing with others I am bonded to, but I am not human. It certainly has seemed to disrupt Mikaela's bond with Sam," Ironhide added, not able to hide the mixture of frustration and anger at that assessment.

Will coughed. "Sam sabotaged himself, big guy." He admired Sam's guts in a fight, given how little the kid actually knew. He had guts and spirit. But the kid was just that, a kid, when it came to not hurting the people around him, especially the girl and Autobot that both, obviously, cared for him. "How's Mikaela doing?" He then shook his head. "Strike that, umm, we were talking about... sex."

"There are things I'd rather do than _talk_ about sex, major," Ironhide rumbled, deliberately directing the heat of his spark to his plating and allowing his frame to vibrate against the human he cared for. "But talk seems necessary in this case." Words with no action were a long source of irritation for the warrior, but Prime had influenced him enough for even him to admit that sometimes talk was necessary.

"Damn." Will had to find his control because those vibrations seemed to rock straight down to his cock and then inside him. "You don't play fair." He swung around enough to grab the door handle, letting himself into the cab so he could sit, a very conscious decision on his part to be inside his partner for this talk. "Sarah's curious."

Ironhide grunted his assent to that. It was rather obvious, and Sarah had given him some very affectionate washes that had required far more self-control than Ironhide was accustomed to showing. His spark spun fast thinking about what such small, dexterous hands could do to his most sensitive components. He had always enjoyed interfacing with much smaller mechs, and had found the possibilities of such sharing extended in fascinating ways to Mikaela, especially with the unique ways in which her energies responded. He could not help but to wish to learn how his own charges responded.

"And you?" Ironhide asked, his tone going even deeper, with harmonics that would have been unmistakable to his own kind.

Will's mouth was dry for a long moment, and he reached to grab the water bottle in the cup holder. He took a very long swig, swirling it around before swallowing. This was what they called put up or shut up time.

"Yeah."

"Yes, you are curious, or yes I should indulge that curiosity," Ironhide rumbled, his field pushing into his charge, searching for a clear answer that, with humans, would take words. It was slagging frustrating, and he did not want to harm something so tenuous and new as his bond with the family he cared for.

"Yeah, curious," Will said. "And if you don't stop doing that I'm...no, we're going to have a wife pouting at us," he added, as it felt way too good to stop, but he knew he had to. Sarah would not kill him, but she'd make him wish he had a field exercise to get to for leaving her out.

Ironhide did not respond verbally, but let the sound of his high-powered alien engines engaging speak for him as he headed to the other end of the Lennox's property. He did back off his field, but only a little. His spark was spinning far too fast for it to be held too tight.

Will found himself grinning, relaxing into the seat, knowing it formed to his body far more than any normal seat could. There were a hundred ways he had noted that Ironhide paid special attention to him, to Sarah, even to Annabelle. All it had taken for him to really see it was just how stiff the other Autobot/Human partnerships remained, and then Mikaela happened.

Will was almost certain Sarah's questions would have stayed internal if it hadn't been for the way Mikaela was treated by the Autobots. Sarah, having seen that, had started her thinking out loud, because then there was proof both could see that their alien friends were interested.

He could not imagine finding an appropriate way to thank Ratchet's assistant, but knowing Ironhide's bluntness, that would be covered by his partner.

* * *

><p>Sarah liked the long summer evenings, but they made getting Annabelle to bed even more difficult than normal. The child had boundless energy that only seemed to grow with the light. Will tried to help, but when it came to routines, he was simply gone too much to be of much use. He made up for it with the play and attention he gave their two-year-old when she was awake.<p>

With Annabelle finally out for the night, Sarah grabbed a beer to celebrate. Then, hearing the sound of the approaching engine, she grabbed a second and headed outside into the fresh evening air, heavy with the scent of the hay Will had cut earlier in the day. She set Will's beer down on the table next to the porch swing, then leaned against the railing and watched them approach.

Her recent conversations with Mikaela had given her far too many ideas, and the grin on her face was that of a young teenager. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself, but the grin didn't fade.

As Ironhide pulled in, Will couldn't help but really look at her, drinking her in the same way he did after every mission, every safe return. He didn't like for her to come to the base to pick him up; he had to see to his men and the 'bots, so he always got his first sight of her here, at home, away from the military, and that was perfect. Just like she was, at least so far as he was concerned.

"Ironhide, we are lucky," he said in a low voice, as his arousal changed, shifting to that deep feeling of need married to spiritual, sensual bliss she promised.

Ironhide rumbled low in agreement, his protective nature surging at the scene that met his sensors. Not for the first time, he thought of how much he would enjoy feeling their energies if the human mates were to make love in his hands, in his cab, or perhaps even on soft blankets on his own parted chest plates. His spark spun even faster, knowing that his humans were both open to deepening their bond. It made him equal parts smug and giddy with a mechling-like quality that Ratchet would undoubtedly give him no end of slag about.

Ironhide stopped his engine and swung open the door impatiently. He'd been in his alt form for too long, and Will's obvious arousal had done nothing to quell his own. As soon as Will was sufficiently clear, he transformed, his optics locking on the human femme with near predatory intent. Hopefully this would not require too much more talking.

Sarah looked at Will, laughing softly when he swiped her beer with one hand at the same time that his other arm pulled her in against his body. She loved the feel of him, all muscle and sinew under his clothes, and she pressed in, claiming a kiss from him, feeling how wound up he was and that just made her tingle from toes to scalp. Only... then her attention turned to Ironhide, suspecting him of amping up the way his energy fields played against them when they kissed and hugged. She was nowhere near as sensitive as Will had admitted to being, but she could tell Ironhide was being far more active than just flirting.

"How are my boys?" she asked, including Ironhide by reaching out one hand to touch his frame.

Will half grinned, tipping a swallow of beer back to see just how his blunt partner answered. Ironhide had crouched down to bring his optics closer to their level, and Will knew he had seen that look in them before, usually directed at one or more of the Autobots, and more recently at Mikaela, sometimes accompanied by a whack on the head by Ratchet and a muttered curse about an "insatiable slagger".

"Your husband wishes to mate with you, and your truck would like to help," Ironhide responded, deciding that stating the obvious was the best strategy for getting things moving as quickly as possible.

"Well, lucky for both of you, I've been thinking about that quite a bit," Sarah said without missing a beat. Will managed to drink the swallow of beer down, giving it back to her so she could sip it again before setting it down on the porch railing. He watched the way she was smiling; the toss of her hair, and the sway of her hips against his own were definitely reigniting a spark real fast.

"I'd say I've been lucky every day since I met you," Will told her before kissing along her neck, which she oh so willingly exposed to him.

"You are," she agreed, wrapping her arms around him even tighter, loving the hard feel of his desire against her. She couldn't help that her eyes kept shifting to Ironhide, so close to them, heat radiating off of his plating. Inwardly, she was quite stunned that Will had obviously spoken with the mech who had so fully become a part of their family. She had been certain she would be the one to broach the topic.

Will's attention shifted as well, momentarily halting the path his lips had following as the couple looked at the glowing blue optics and felt poised at the edge of some precipice there would be no returning from. "Touch us," Sarah managed to say, "touch us any way you want to."

Ironhide rumbled deep and low in his range, letting it seep out into the harmonics of his fields. "Thinking, if I laid down, you two could make yourselves comfortable on me so I can touch all of you," he suggested. His hand, however, came out to curve around them, radiating heat through the plating that had nothing to do with the summer.

"I won't say no to getting out of these jeans," Will told them both, hesitating just enough to make certain Sarah was ready for this irreversible decision.

Sarah answered that question conclusively by reaching down to cup and caress him through the denim before unzipping and unbuttoning the unnecessary barrier. "Lie down, Ironhide," she said in a throaty tone as her hand continued to squeeze and caress Will's length, now freed from his jeans and briefs. Her entire body shivered, imagining watching Ironhide touch her husband with those extenders Mikaela had described in such delicious detail, and imagining them on herself with Will inside her.

"Yes ma'am," Ironhide said in a deliberate replay of some of the tones Will used with her, optics staying on them even as he settled, mostly on his side, with his hand cupped for them to join him, a thick blanket from his subspace ready to protect them from his sharper edges.

Will cupped his hands around Sarah's hips, letting her keep contact, keep touching him the way he loved. "That's my line, big guy," he playfully warned, backing slowly to where Ironhide had settled.

"I always figured you had that in case Annabelle needed it," Sarah teased nervously, her heart racing in excitement as they settled themselves onto the blanket in his hands, so close to the plating of his chest that was radiating warmth and something else she could always feel, though often wondered if was just her overactive imagination. "Never realized it was your 'just in case my humans want to have sex on me' blanket."

Ironhide chuckled, the warm sound moving through them both as he gathered them in his hands and rolled onto his back, settling them on his chest. "It has multiple purposes, and I have several of them, so be sure to tell me if you need another," Ironhide explained even as he activated a minor transformation sequence, moving some of his chest components out of the way and smoothing others. He had a sequence to fit every member of his cohort, and adjusting it to the two humans was a simple matter that he had already created the algorithms for.

"This is why Ratchet calls him a nanny-bot," Will whispered to his wife to cover his own nervousness as they got comfortable.

Ironhide made a noise at the name. "He onlined as a nanny-bot," the warrior said grumpily, but it was laced with amusement and warmth, and under it all, a deep love that stretched now to enfold them on an even level with Ratchet in his spark.

"I love you just as you are, Ironhide, ever diligent in protecting us from all harm," Sarah told him, warmth swelling for the big warrior. She took a moment to pull free of Will just enough to start shedding her excess clothing, feeling more than safe enough in Ironhide's hands, and able to let Ironhide's better audials listen for Annabelle.

It was a strange mixture of total comfort and awkwardness for the two humans, like something that should feel more strange than it did, but still there was hesitation as they settled on their sides, face to face, supremely aware of being naked on top of Ironhide, immersed in his field, cupped beneath his hands on his now far more comfortable chest.

As if sensing their hesitation, he ran two of his digits along each of their sides, stroking them from head to toe with supreme gentleness. "Keep touching one another," he rumbled, "and I'll touch you. I enjoy the energies you make together."

"We don't want to leave you out," Sarah said, shivering at the touch and reaching to stroke his large finger with her small ones.

"You won't be," Ironhide promised, unlocking his chest slightly to feel their energies more directly. His spark knew them, surging and reaching for the patterns imprinted on it. Later, there would be time to teach them how to touch him.

Sarah gasped as all her 'imaginations' touched her more directly, the waves of energy so much a part of Ironhide, with all his solid strength and warm comfort tangled in it. Will pulled her more solidly against him as his body reacting to the energies he had felt during peaceful moments on base and in the heat of the battlefield, when Ironhide tucked him in and ran when the firepower was too much for the humans to take.

"Let's do what he says, pretty lady," Will suggested to his wife, eyes bright with love for her, trusting in his partner.

Sarah didn't have to be asked twice, kissing Will with abandon, running her hands along the same places Ironhide had just touched, reveling in the smoothness of the skin over his muscles. She hitched her leg around his hip, her slickness tight against the underside of his hard heat. She moaned as Ironhide continued to stroke them, with his fingers... and with the energies that she could no longer deny were real. She felt them spiral around her. A single digit pressed on her ass, pushing her against her husband, making her slide against his length that she was more than ready for.

Will reached up to grip her shoulders, wrists making contact with Ironhide's digit touching the wife he had sworn to protect, cherish, and support. It shook him through his core that in bringing home Ironhide, he might truly fulfill those vows in ways that many Special Forces' soldiers couldn't be so certain of. Even if he died out there, Ironhide would protect their family. It pushed all his most primitive buttons in ways that defied monogamy, and he slid deep within her body, hungry for her, hungry for this consummation.

The two humans could feel more than hear the deep rumble of satisfaction underneath and all around them as Will rocked in a slow, steady pace that left her moaning for more. With the sound of smooth hydraulics, the gap in Ironhide's chest opened wider next to them. Even with her eyes closed, Sarah could see the light of his spark, his very soul that they and their daughter had solemnly touched a few short months after meeting this being who chose to bind himself to them. She felt her hair standing on end as the energies built around her, and lost herself in sensation. The familiar, smooth slide of her husband into her mingled with something strong, passionate, alien but known and so very much a part of her... something she yearned for more of, to give herself over completely to. She was aware that smooth, sheathed cables were now stroking her, wrapping around them both, like a physical manifestation of the energies stroking and swirling around them.

Will gasped as those cables wrapped around, the feeling of being held with Sarah overwhelming the base instinct of being trapped. This was loving, supportive, making it so easy to just use the cables' press on his back as leverage for his own rhythm. He looked at her face, bathed in the glow of Ironhide's spark, and felt his words twist in his throat, unspoken in that moment of awe.

Sarah arched into all of the touches, her cries loud and sweet as Will's rhythm became sharper, more claiming. One of the cables had slipped between them, pushing against her in rhythm with her husband's thrusts in just the right way to make her toes curl. "Oh, I love you," she gasped, "I love you both so much."

Both felt the answering surge in Ironhide's spark at her words. "We love you," Will said, on top of Ironhide's rumble of the same three words. The male and mech partners were bound up in her, tighter than normally possible between humans, as the frequencies of Ironhide's energies laced through their bio-electric fields and united them all in something much fuller.

Neither human stood a chance at lasting long as the massive mech's energies grew and bound them together. Will's thrusts became erratic as they clung to one another even tighter, gasping as actual tendrils from Ironhide's spark emerged, pulsing, reaching. Both reached out toward the gap in their protector's chest, making contact, uniting them for a brief, brilliant moment in a singular consciousness as their pleasure erupted as one.

* * *

><p>"Damp it down, Bright Glow," Ratchet groused at Ironhide as they tried to inventory the latest supplies confiscated from an incursion of 'Cons.<p>

"Would rather share the file," Ironhide rumbled, deliberately moving close into Ratchet's space and flaring his field suggestively. "Though... didn't quite cover that aspect of things with them," he added. Humans made things far too complicated sometimes.

Ratchet paused, and looked at his damnable, smug, insufferable, and insatiable partner. "You got them? Both?" He let his immortal skepticism speak for itself, refusing to rise to the bait of those seductive fields.

The almost purr-like rumble of contentment that came from deep inside Ironhide's chassis was enough of a confirmation, though just for good measure, he pointing to his chest. "Right here, several times, including each of them watching the other with me alone," he bragged, supremely pleased at how comfortable both of his charges had become in such a short amount of time.

"Good, maybe I can get some decent recharge!" Ratchet said, utterly deadpan, and he moved to finish his task, as if there was nothing special to discuss, despite the gleam in his optics.

Ironhide responded just the way Ratchet knew he would, by launching himself in an attempt to take the medic to the floor with a loud clash of metal on metal. The problem with Ironhide, Ratchet reflected as he maneuvered himself to pin down his partner, was that when he fell in love he just wanted more with everyone else he loved, too.

And that, Ratchet purred in the depths of his own processor, was really no problem at all.


End file.
